


And Buried Wells Do Poison Still

by herradurra1



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-11 09:02:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3321644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herradurra1/pseuds/herradurra1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weapons of past wars live on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It had been one hell of a monster hunt. “We will be safer here.” Here, being the remains of a concrete bunker or safe room of some old store, or the home of some paranoid old geezer. Who even knew anymore. It hadn’t survived, at any rate.

Reno knew the gunman was right, and besides, he didn’t want to argue with Valentine on the best of days. If his partner never won a fight, what chance did he have? Never mind the fact he’d been dragged down to his least favorite well of memory and regret, the Sector Seven plate. He didn’t know why he’d agreed to it. It sure as hell wasn’t because it was an order. No, that bowl of steaming bullshit had run its course the last time he was here.

He guessed he just felt responsible.

The shops and bars had long ago been looted, the survivors having found other places to scavenge. Vincent stood at a window--if it truly could have been called that--and looked out the jagged hole in the concrete. Someone had painted under it in jagged letters,  ALL GONE. Broken bottles of expensive stolen perfume, scents that were all the rage before the column had come crashing down, had spilled their long forgotten scents into the rough gray surface below. His right hand still resting on Cerberus, he picked up a shard of glass with his gauntlet and sniffed at the remains. Reno wondered what memory it evoked, if any, or what judgment lay in the hard red eyes. “You weren’t human. Not when he was done with you.”

“What?”

“The old President.” There was no pity in the gunman’s voice. Just the sad recognition that they were the same. “It was the way he did things. We were means to an end. You weren’t human. He didn’t care what blowing that pin did to you any more than it did to these people.”

“I tried to get them out. I actually did, most of them. No one knows that. OK, the one person does, that I trusted to pass along the order.”

Vincent turned the glass in a beam of sunlight where it broke through a crack in the old plate, smiled in sudden recognition. “Strife. I thought that fight ended a little too conveniently. By the way, I’d sit on that secret a little longer if I were you. There are still those in ShinRa who would see you shorter by the head for treason.”

“Yeah.” Reno watched the rainbows from the glass play over the walls. “Didn’t plan on taking an ad out in the  Midgar Times .” Damn he’d be glad when Rude showed up to bail them both out of here. Memory and claustrophobia were both old friends but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Still, if he had to be trapped with anyone, Valentine was a good pick. “How many weapons you got on you right now?”

“Three guns including the back rig, a couple knives, and a corkscrew.”

Reno decided he wouldn’t ask. Suddenly Vincent cocked his head to one side and motioned for Reno to follow him. They climbed the decrepit back stair up toward the light of day where the welcome sight of Rude’s helicopter greeted them.

Vincent didn’t even wait for it to set down before hopping inside and rummaging around in the back. Reno was a bit more circumspect. By the time he climbed in, Vincent had gone to work on a dark glass bottle stopped with hard wax, picking at it with the small knife attached to the wine tool in a way that spoke of long experience. Not for the first time, Reno wondered what it was like to be a part of their unspoken communication, darkness and madness and light.

He took a long pull from the bottle and passed it to Reno who, never really a wine person, decided there was no time like the present to start a new bad habit and drank it down. It was sweet and heavy and not his type of beverage at all, but it had been a shitty day and so he took another drink and gave the bottle back. “What do you think it meant,” he shouted over the noise of the copter. Vincent just gave a quizzical shrug. “On the wall.  All gone . Who, us or them?”

“Not sure,” Vincent shouted back. “For all we know, it’s a warning.”

Reno looked down at the crumbling edge of the plate where creeping vines had grown through, nature taking back territory it had never really surrendered, and deeper into the black shadow. In the bright light of the sun it seemed darker than it should have been. It was...alien, somehow. There was a pattern to it all that his tired mind tried to pick out, as though civilization had never really left the place, even in it’s abandonment.

“Something is wrong,” he said half to himself. “Something was still there, but...it’s like...”

“Like we weren’t the only ones left inhuman.”

  
Rude flew them home past the ruins, the wind suddenly cold past their skin and the darkness behind them full of unseen eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

“You know, even I can tell there’s something wrong when you pick at your food.”

  


Cloud’s tone was soft and teasing, but they knew each other far too well. “It’s probably nothing, yo.  Seriously.”

  


“Mmmm hmmmm.”

  


“Okay, I just had a bad feeling about the trip today.  No, not like that.  I mean, yeah, like that, but not because of what happened, you know?”

  


“Reno, it can’t _not_ affect you. I didn’t think you should have gone anyway. If Vin hadn’t gone with you, I’d have thrown a bigger fit than I did.”

  


Reno paused for a moment while he tried to imagine Cloud in a larger snit than the one he had left this morning. He failed, and changed the subject. “I got the feeling something was watching us and...I don’t know.  It’s like the place didn’t look as abandoned as it should have been.  There wasn’t any dust for one thing.  And there’s a smell to places, when no one has been there in a really long time.  Rat droppings, stale air, and so on. Nothing I can put my finger on, I mean it looked abandoned but then it didn’t.”

  


“Something or someone?” Cloud scraped up the rest of his stew and ate it, taking the dish to the sink.

  


Reno ate a few more bites of his cooling food, then went to reheat it.  “I don’t think it was human. I don’t know how I knew that. Something about that place gave me the creeps and I put it off to just being where it was. And I know I say a lot about Valentine being all Tall Dark and Crazy…”

  


“Don’t let him hear you, his sense of humor is a little unpredictable.”

  


“Yah.” Reno waved him off. “But something was off even with him. Like, you ever seen people training guard hounds and blow a dog whistle? I hate it, man, it’s gotta hurt, but a couple times I saw him jump at nothing and he never does that.  Well, not jump, more like he was just...tense. Like he was gearing up against something.” He finished his dinner and put his plate on the counter, even though the sink was only a few inches away. Sighing at the old pet peeve, Cloud came behind him and put it into the sink, rinsing it off so the food wouldn’t cake and dry.

  


“You want to check it out.” It wasn’t a question.

  


“Yeah. I mean you don’t…Oh come on, don’t roll your eyes like that.” He laughed, he had to.  “Fine. We haven’t been back there together since that time we both risked our asses meeting…”

  


“That’s when I thought you just might be okay for a Turk.”

  


“Bullshit, you still tried to kill me.”

  


“Not as hard.”

  


They held each other in the soft light from the stove hood, rather than turn on the overhead. It was enough. Cloud smelled like garlic and soup and his traveling leathers and it was nice to be home.

  


“I don’t like it, but if you’re up for it we can go. I don’t have anything to do Friday.”

  


“Sure. Yeah.”

  


Reno didn’t know how long they stood there in the kitchen, or why. Comfort, habit, or both, he couldn’t tell, but sleep did not come easily for either of them when finally they did go to bed.

  


~~~~~

  


His sleepy mind picked at the memories of that day.  Reno was not a formally educated man, outside his years at the Academy. However he was not, as people so often assumed, stupid. His observations on his environment were often more insightful than those of a professor or researcher.

  


Something about Sector Seven just had not looked right.

  


It had been destroyed utterly, yes, he had seen to that himself, and for reasons of either neglect or design had never been rebuilt. And yet...and yet there was something in the way it had lain in the afternoon light that had reminded him of that day the four of them had gone after the ghouls near the old tower. Something in the way of the not entirely accidental placement of the rubble, of the way certain places looked more neglected than others. Roads, or what had once passed for roads, lay full of the remains of fallen buildings and yet...and yet the room where he and Valentine had holed up was, though lacking a roof, clean and functional.

  


Something was living there, or had been until very recently.

  


Something that was not human.

  


“Cloud,” he whispered.  “Wake up. I know what’s wrong.”

  


His lover was instantly awake. They had known each other too long. He could see Cloud’s eyes glowing soft blue in the darkness of their bedroom and it occurred to him that if he was silent now, they could be safe for a while longer in the soft quiet of their home. The hum of the refrigerator reached him, the sound of a toilet flushing, and a neighbor’s stereo.  “What is it?”

  


“There weren’t any streets.”  Cloud blinked, drowsy and uncomprehending.  “Someone’s living there all right.  But not human. Not even close. They don’t need streets, man. What the fuck has ShinRa been up to?”

  


“I don’t get it.”

  


“Whatever this is...it fuckin’ flies. That’s why there weren’t any streets.”

  


Now awake, Cloud sat up. “Worse yet, why aren’t there any people? There are always people in the slums, no matter how bad. Sometimes, the worse the conditions, the more likely you’ll find them, the ones with the most to run from.”

  


“Someone had painted on the wall. All Gone. Just graffiti but it made my skin crawl.”

  


Cloud got up and made a pot of coffee.

  


~~~~~

  


Reno and Cloud traveled down to Sector 7 shortly after dawn. They were well armed, and Reno carried a state of the art digital camera. “So what were you two down here shooting, anyway?”

  


“That’s just it. We’d been hunting above the plate all day, run of the mill shit, and we followed this...thing down here. Never got a good look at it, but hey, why not, right? Got down here and we were attacked by these, gods they looked like hawks but not. Like if some crazy bastard bred one with a midget dragon and an acid nightmare. So we holed up and Valentine started shooting. Taking pictures was not on my agenda. But...what the hell, monsters don’t build cities.”

  


“Ants do. Bees do.”

  


They reached the room that he and Vincent had used for shelter two days before. “That makes me feel so much better.” It was darker in the morning, the sun not having reached the crack in the plate above, and any hopes that Reno had of the earlier hour dispelling the creepiness of the place dissipated into the morning mist. One of the dead creatures lay outside the window space. “We’ll come back and get that one if we can’t bag a more recent specimen.”

  


“Yay, unidentified dead monster before lunch.” Cloud nudged at the thing and the two men made their careful way down the ruined remains of a sidewalk.

  


It came out of nowhere. Wheeling in the air as though it were drunk, it was clearly headed for them but without any true aim. “Tranq it! Tranq the gods damned thing!”

  


“I’m trying! Stop playing camera boy and help if you have an--”  
  


The thing--and Reno was right, it looked like a bird of prey mixed with a dragon, even more eerie when alive--bounced off the side of a building and nearly landed on top of Cloud as he threw a small knife square into its chest. Reno managed to take a series of high speed sharp photographs, while Cloud was covered with oozing monster blood.  Looking up from the dirty sidewalk where the momentum had landed him, he croaked “Baby, we have got to get you a zoom lens.”

  


“Whatever.” Reno packed up the camera. “Let’s take this in. That’s one real live dead monster and several good pics, maybe we can finally figure out what is going on here.”

  


Back at the Tower, Elena poked at the dead monsters with mild distaste. “The pictures weren’t enough?”

  


“We’d already killed it. Woulda been inconsiderate not to share.”

  


“Right.  Well then, it’s been a long time since pathology lab, but let’s see what’s inside this bastard.” She reached for a scalpel and sliced it open without blinking. It never failed to amaze Reno that the same woman who would run screaming from a cockroach could slice open a body, human or monster, and never even flinch unless she broke a nail doing it.  “Okay, that’s different.”

  


“What’s different?” Besides him struggling to hold onto his lunch.

  


“I thought as much, looking at the eyes, but see here?” He would rather have not but couldn’t think of a way to salvage his manhood, otherwise. “The entire anatomy is mammalian.”

  


“Gonna have to catch me up here Laney, I slept through most of school.”

  


“Bullshit. Warm blooded creatures have basic differences from cold blooded ones. This appears to be cross bred between warm and cold blooded animals, which I didn’t think was possible. Birds are warm blooded. Dragons are cold blooded. This animal should not have happened. And see the vocal cords? I’ve never seen those on anything, including a human. Where did you say you found this?”

  


“Lower Sector Seven. And it was the only thing we found there. Not even rats.” He left out how the place had seemed inhabited and yet not; he’d be just as happy with only Cloud thinking he was batshit for now.

  


She frowned. Like most analytical people, she did not appreciate missing pieces. “Did you find anything at all, any facilities where someone might have done this?”

  


“We didn’t stay that long but...no. I think all those things are gone now, though. Valentine took most of them out. There weren’t that many.” He tried to count back in his head. Had there been five, six? Not even that many?

  


“We should talk to him.”

  


“Good luck, Rude says he’s been down with a headache ever since. Can’t say that I blame him.”

  


She was quiet, looking at the dead monster in her lab and unfazed at the blood and goo that covered her to the elbow. “I’ll talk to the President about sending a team the meantime, those pictures you took have been through every recognition software we have. So far, these guys haven’t been seen anywhere else on the Planet, thank the Goddess.”

  


If they were lucky, it would stay that way. Experience had long taught Reno that the only thing worse than an unsolved mystery was a solved one.

  


~~~~~

  


That night, Vincent dreamed.

  


A man he’d never seen before looked back at him from the mirror. He was tall, taller than Rude, even. His square jaw looked even more dramatic with the buzz cut hair that had been worn by SOLDIER NCOs back in the twenties and thirties. He watched as the not-him shaved and gave a saucy wink, threw on the jacket of a Third Class, so new it still bore the creases, and marched out the door with the bearing of a career military man.

  


Vincent knew him.

  


Vincent had never seen him before in his life.

  


He woke in a cold sweat and went to the kitchen for a glass of something to cut the cramped, dry feeling in his throat. He tried to think of something to grasp, something familiar. The bathroom? But no, it was a standard officer’s bathroom, all institutional tile and bare incandescent bulbs. But something called to him from the dream that he could not shake.

  


He returned to bed after a while, no closer to an answer. Rude rolled over and placed a hand on the small of his back in silent query. He reached back and squeezed the man’s arm as reassurance. The lie felt a little easier on his conscience if he did not speak it aloud.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams are not kind to Vincent, and Nibelheim is kind to no one.

The last few months had passed quietly, if ominously.  
  
“Most of you will recognize these pictures as the creature Cloud and Reno killed in Lower Seven.” Tseng presided over the meeting, his expression stating louder than any words that he would rather not. Elena grimly passed around folders containing autopsy results, blood tests, DNA tests, and the five pictures Reno had taken of the monster. “For the sake of brevity we are calling the unknown monsters Flyers. They were discovered by Vincent and Reno on a routine expedition to the lower Sector Seven area. We kept watch for them to show up elsewhere, and they have.”  
  
“Where is that, sir?” asked Elena.  
  
“Nibelheim. We sent a team of scientists to investigate. That was four weeks ago. Contact has been lost in the meantime”  
  
“Anybody getting major Deepground creeps, raise your hand, yo.”  
  
Vincent sat at the end of the table, choosing not to answer. A wordless argument ensued between him and Rude that required no translation, and he went back to doodling on his notepad.  
  
“Their notes,” the Director went on with some impatience, “become more and more irrational as time goes on. The lead researcher claims his team was trying to kill him. There are other bizarre log reports you will find in your folders. However, the last member of the team left a suicide note, and that is all we have. I would like to ask for volunteers…”  
  
“I’m going,” Vincent said without looking up.  
  
Rude looked for a moment as though he would argue, but professionalism took over and he sat stoically nearby. “All right, I need two more.” Tseng looked hard at Rude.  
  
“Reno and Reeve. Reno was there for the first expedition. Reeve’s engineering expertise may come in handy, and we’ll need Cloud’s hacking abilities and the rest of the Turks back here to work on what we send.”  
  
“Fine, we’ll get started in the morning.”  
  
Rude met him outside the room, but before he could formulate an argument, Vincent stopped him.  “No. I need you to come later. In case we need help, I can’t have both of us incapacitated at once. Something is there and we have to find it. Does this sound familiar to you? It’s stuck in my head like a bad pop song.”  
  
 _And buried wells do poison still  
And buried pasts for good or ill  
The bitch has burned, her bones to dust  
The summoner’s grind has gone to rust  
Her victim’s tomb reclaimed by vine  
While dogs of war on masters dine._  
  
Reno picked up the paper. “Don’t quit your day job.”  
  
“I didn’t write it. I mean, I don’t think I did. It sounds almost like one of those creepy nursery rhymes or something...I know they used to burn people accused of poisoning wells. I know wars were fought over wells and fresh water. And that’s about as far as my historiography runs.”  
  
“New to me. But I’d say a military man wrote it. SOLDIER, maybe? It’s an old saying that we’ll be the food for our dogs of war. A war’s never over and we’ll be claimed by the remains of the last one,” Tseng added. “I want you to keep in constant contact once you get to Nibelheim. If you start feeling strange or note any odd behavior in the others, contact us immediately. Do not chalk this up to being tired or having a bad day, we cannot afford any delays, do you understand?”  
  
Vincent nodded. Rude crossed his arms, and the two began their customary wordless argument. But as tired as Rude was of watching Vincent fly off into dangers unknown, he knew he’d lost this round. He was right. Whatever was happening, it ended with them and it ended in Nibelheim.  Then, “I”m sorry, Rude.”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“Taking over. Telling you what you have to put up with from me. I--”  
  
“If you didn’t have a point, yeah. Don’t like it, but...promise me....”  
  
“I will. I swear.”  
  
Rude nodded, unhappy but knowing they had damn few choices in the matter.  
  
They all said goodbye the next morning on the flightpad. “I need you to do something for me,” Vincent said by way of goodbye. “See if there is anything in the archives about my demons.”  
  
Rude blinked, surprised. “Aren’t they, you know, demons?”  
  
“I don’t know. Chaos was not technically a demon. He, or it, was tainted Lifestream energy. Whether he was sentient before he was bonded with me or not, I don’t know. Galian has lupine DNA as far as we can tell. Gods only know what Hellmasker is, or was except borderline worthless. Death Gigas only manifested in battle, when he had to lead. I think that’s why he’s been silent so long. There’s been no one to fight. The records could go very far back, much farther than my murder.”  
  
“I’ll look. You…”  
  
“I will,” he said again. They embraced and then let go, reluctantly, Vincent taking Rude’s usual place in the shotgun seat of the helicopter as the other man watched it slowly disappear into the morning sky.  
  
~~~~~  
  
They set up headquarters in an abandoned inn. Rebuilt after the fire in a rush to appear normal, the construction had never been the most sturdy and neglect hung hard on the walls. In spite of sagging doors, cracked windows, and peeling wallpaper, though, it at least provided a minimum of shelter and running water.  
  
“Ain’t drinkin’ that, yo.” The thin brown stream was clearing slowly but appeared no more appetizing.  
  
“We have plenty of bottled water. The water purification filters can wait until we’ve used up whatever has been sitting in these pipes since…” Reeve left his sentence unfinished.  
  
“Since. Yeah. I gotta call Cloud, man, let him know we got here okay.”  
  
As nominal head of the expedition, Vincent nodded his permission and sat down on the dusty bed. After a moment’s thought, he retrieved and unrolled his sleeping bag on top of it.  
  
“Good idea,” Reeve said. “I don’t relish sleeping on these either. I’ll go and check in as well.” He went to find an acceptable room, leaving Vincent alone with his thoughts.  
  
It had changed so much. He had slept through the fire, and the subsequent rebuilding, so this was all foreign to him. Nibelheim had been a sturdy, historic mountain village, not this cheap clapboard monstrosity, and the neglect and decay made it even more surreal and otherworldly. He hadn’t paid much attention when he was here with Cid, years ago, but now he had nothing to do but observe and think. It put him in a restless mood, and so he traveled to the only place he hated more.  
  
ShinRa Mansion was older than the town but much better built. Still, with no habitation, years had not been kind to the place. He walked through the rusted gate and the doors, still hanging open from the last time he’d been inside. The smell wasn’t as bad as he’d feared; musty and disused but no more than that. He scraped a little mildew from a stair banister and, with a brief argument with himself, descended.  
  
It had been a long time since he’d been here last. Here, to this place, to this room.  
  
The long room housed a series of coffins, covered in cobwebs and dust. One stood open and smashed into its composite boards. Someone had taken their frustrations out on the thing. Vincent pulled his phone out of his pocket and was surprised to see a strong signal. “Hey,” he said in greeting.  
  
Rude sighed in combined relief and concern. “You okay?”  
  
“I guess. Tired. Everyone is.” One day in and the strain was pulling at him; it was not a good sign. “What the hell did you do to my coffin?”  
  
“Made sure you weren’t getting back in it.” There was a brief, amused silence. “Vin, at the time it was a possibility. And I was pissed.”  
  
“What did you use?” He looked around the room for a beam or anything that Rude could have used to crushed the thing.  
  
“My fists. Told you I was upset.”  
  
“I miss you.”  
  
“You sure you’re okay?”  
  
“Yeah. I guess. I’ll call later, okay?”  
  
“I love you. Don’t do anything...risky.”  
  
“I love you too.” He pressed end call without saying goodbye, the word stuck in his throat.  
  
Vincent looked at the crushed coffin. He remembered his unwilling rescue from it, the people who had become his friends, and the man who had torn it to smithereens.  He wasn’t alone. But it damn sure felt like it now, having gone where Rude could not follow. Putting the phone in his pocket, he decided to return to his research. He retrieved a few boxes of files from the library, studiously ignoring the blood stain on the floor, and dragged them back to the inn. Crows perched on buildings and fences, and the indistinct forms of the Flyers circled in the distance. He could barely pick up a haunting, keening cry from the creatures, and it set his nerves on edge. It sounded almost like a crying infant.  
  
He should never have come back here.   
  
Vincent tried to look over the files in his room but tired of the sounds of Reno and Reeve arguing. His keen hearing picked up nothing of import, just two tired people digging at each other’s nerves. He didn’t need this shit right now, he decided, and took the more hopeful of the folders back to the library with him. After a moment’s thought, he picked up the carpet runner from the entryway, dusted it, and threw it over the decades-old blood so he didn’t have to see.  
  
It was as though it had happened to someone else. Certainly not a man with a loving family and circle of friends and a job. Vincent read through the notes until far past dawn, falling asleep on his folded arms. He dreamed of death and crying children, and vultures circling a battlefield on which he had never fought. A large man lifted him.  
  
“Rude? You shouldn’t be here.”  
  
He woke as soon as the words left his mouth. He was alone in the library, with no company but the wind.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Vincent returned to the inn midway through the morning. He found Reeve cooking a breakfast of ready meals in the main kitchen, and Reno sulking at a corner table. “Where ya been?” the Turk asked.  
  
“Doing research.” His depressed conversation with Rude and his odd nightmare didn’t really need mentioning. “Fell asleep.”  
  
Reno snorted, more derisively than usual, but Vincent chose to ignore it. Reeve stomped out of the kitchen and slammed a plate of some horrible reconstituted freeze dried egg dish down on the table. “I don’t care if it’s disgusting, you’ll eat it or go hungry or catch a damn bird to eat. I don’t care.” He stormed back into the kitchen and could be heard slamming pots and pans. “Not hungry!” Vincent yelled through the door. Reeve gave him a dark look. He returned to the table. “What’s up? Did I miss something?”  
  
“Who fuckin’ knows, man. Probably got a calculator shoved up his ass or something.”  
  
That brought Vincent up short. Reno was tactless, but was seldom mean. “No, really. What’s wrong?” He rubbed his head where it was beginning to ache. He craved quiet. There was always noise in the place. Reno just shrugged and pushed the omelet-thing away.  
Politely declining the offered meal, Vincent went into the kitchen. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?”  
  
“Why? You elected yourself boss. I’m just the cook, apparently.”  
  
“Is everyone here losing their gods damned minds? What the hell happened while I was gone last night? You know what?” He cut off what was sure to be a tirade on the subject of how hard the Commissioner worked and how no one appreciated it. “I don’t want to know right now. I really do not feel well. Please excuse me.”  
  
He hadn’t taken his sleeping pill the night before and figured one day of lounging around wouldn’t matter. Nothing was getting done with those two at each other’s throats anyway. He swallowed the small blue pill quickly, grimacing at the taste before noticing he’d used the tap water out of habit.  
  
Not really caring if he had contracted dysentery at that point, he lay down and put in his earphones to drown out the sound of more arguing. The song was haunting, one that he and Rude had totally not danced to on the balcony one night. It had seemed sweet at the time, a poke at Vincent’s tendency to run and hide when faced with his imperfections.  
  
 _Are you going to age with grace?_  
Are you going to age without mistakes?  
Are you going to age with grace?  
Only to wake and hide your face?  
  
Now it just made him feel pathetic and alone. He thought about going back to the mansion, but sleep finally claimed him.  
  
He dreamed he was standing over his coffin. He looked up into the now familiar face of the Soldier.  
  
“You gotta leave, buddy. I can’t protect you much longer,” the Soldier told him earnestly.  
  
“I don’t understand. Who are you?”  
  
“You know.”  
  
“I don’t! I can’t leave. We have to find out what happened here.”  
  
“You know what happened here. You were here. We both were. Get your friends out of here before they die too. I can’t protect you all.”  
  
“I don’t understand!” They faced off over the coffin, both men desperate to make the other see. Vincent banged his fists into the damaged wood until the pain woke him, blood and splinters. He was still here. He was awake. He was no longer dreaming.  
  
But the man was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem is original. Like Vincent, I am not quitting my day job.
> 
> The song is Oblivion by Bastille, which is quite lovely, a little sad, and very Vincent.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time is running out, and the Nibelheim crew is more isolated than ever.

##  [ And Buried Wells Do Poison Still, Ch 4 ](http://herradurra1.deviantart.com/art/And-Buried-Wells-Do-Poison-Still-Ch-4-526251969)

  * by [herradurra1](http://herradurra1.deviantart.com/), Moments ago
  * [Literature](http://www.deviantart.com/literature/) / [Fan Fiction](http://www.deviantart.com/literature/fanfiction/) / [Horror](http://www.deviantart.com/literature/fanfiction/horror/)



The sleepwalking episode left Vincent shaken. He felt around for his phone, and immediately felt foolish; naturally he wouldn’t have taken it with him in his pajamas. The basement was cold and damp, and the walk back uncomfortable without shoes.

And always the Flyers and their cries. The too-bright moon threw his shadow on the ground, thin and fey in the wind. He crept in silence up to his room and sat until he knew Rude would be up.

“Something’s wrong,” he said, again bypassing hello. “I think it’s the water. I’m going mad and there is something with Reeve and Reno, they do nothing but fight.”

“We’re coming.”

“No! It could still be a contagion, we can’t take the risk. I’ll leave some water and soil samples out by the airfield. Have Cid pick them up and put them in a bio container for the flight back. Full containment procedures in the lab.”

“Okay. Vin--”

“No. Rude, please promise me you won’t go near them.”

“We can get you out. Put the three of you in quarantine here. But baby I gotta say you don’t sound crazy.”

“Sad, you know what I sound like crazy. What do I sound like?”

“Depressed. Scared. Not crazy. Remember, crazy people don’t know they’re crazy." Not entirely accurate, but Vincent decided not to correct him. "What’s up with the others?”

“Not sure. Look, get the samples and I’ll call you back.”

“Promise.”

“I promise I’ll call you back.” He hung up while he still had the courage, and went to gather samples of anything he could find. Two hours later he left the boxes by the airfield, and sat down on a nearby hillside to wait.

It broke his heart to see his best friend land and get out of the plane without speaking to him, but it was a risk he simply could not take. He made sure that Cid used proper procedure when securing the samples, then saw the man look up. He knew he’d been spotted, and waved, hoping Cid knew the danger of coming any closer.

He did. They stood without moving, perhaps a hundred yards apart, for a few minutes. Cid made a motion that looked like a salute. Vincent returned it, watching as his friend climbed back into the plane and took off. He watched, and watched, until there was no more sign of it on the horizon, not even the shiny speck in the sky to show that Cid had been there.

He returned to the town. There was work to do.

~~~~~

Vincent read through notes and research until his eyes blurred, and then lay down for a blissfully dreamless nap. He woke with his head on the notebook, Hojo’s familiar scrawl an unwelcome sight. He was probably the only person who could read it. He skimmed through a few more folders until something grabbed his attention.

_July 8: Enough dragon eggs have been harvested from nests to the south to begin. Blending the genetic material with local birds, I believe, will produce a cross species viable to a wider variety of climates._

What was it Elena had told Reno? Something about cross breeding.

_August 12: New hybrids inviable. Had to be destroyed. Did it outside so it would be less of a mess._

_August 15: Experiment redone by breeding the hatchlings with genetically altered birds. 47% success rate, acceptable at this time._

_August 30: New hatchlings very aggressive, resulting in loss of two careless technicians.  Annoying._

_September 10: Further genetic manipulation for wider range of sonic waves seems to be successful, but distance too limited to be viable. Could be excellent possibilities if this issue can be solved._

_September 18: Hells. Why do they give me unlimited budget if they aren’t going to let people know to keep their hands off this? Entire brigade of Soldiers sent to combat “dragon” infestation when a few adults escaped holding facility. Several casualties, but all is not lost. I believe I can recycle the human tissue. Still annoyed that I cannot seem to find a reliable way to solve distance problem._

_September 30: Finally, progress. Lost another tech, such carelessness, these youths._

The notes ended there, only a handful of official reports about grant transfers and some police reports about bar fights in the town, which made no sense. Why would they be in the same folder?

And why in all hells was he the only one working on this? Gods, his head hurt. It hadn’t stopped since they got off the helicopter. He returned to the inn once more. Just after Reno and Reeve had begun to grow argumentative, Reeve had distracted himself by setting up a computer and scanner in the dining room and hooking it up to a generator outside. Vincent started the generator and walked inside, grateful that neither of his contentious fellow travelers seemed to be anywhere near.

He clicked to connect to ShinRa’s lab, waiting on the old fashioned equipment to make the connection, and was surprised when Rude answered. “Is Elena all right?”

“At lunch. Are _you_?”

Vincent rubbed his hand over his face. He hadn’t bathed in days, and his hair must look a mess. “I found some things that might be relevant in Hojo’s notes. I’m scanning them in.”

“Tseng said he can’t get hold of Reeve, and Cloud had a hellish fight with Reno this morning.”

Reno and Cloud never fought. And Reeve…”I don’t remember when I saw them last. I don’t know how long I was at the Mansion. Look, I’ve been thinking. I accidentally drank some of the water the other day; I would have thought the others would have been more careful, but...”

“You said that yesterday, you thought it was the water.”

Was it only yesterday? It felt like weeks. “It’s definitely something and that’s the only link I can think of. I need you to put the entire area under the highest level quarantine.”

“Babe…”

“No, I’m sorry, you can’t risk bringing us back. We solve this from here. Sending the notes now.”

“Okay. I’ll make sure Laney gets ‘em. Oh, no dice on the research on your demons. Maybe there’s something where you are.” Not surprising, but it had been worth a try.

They were silent for a few moments. But the generator only had so much fuel, and with full quarantine no one knew when they would get more. “I have to go.”

“We’ll find the answer.”

“I know,” Vincent smiled with a confidence he did not feel. Neither man would speak aloud, _But what if we don’t?_

~~~~~

At first a shower seemed a foolish thing, with the doubts about the water. However, Vincent decided that if they were all infected already, he might as well be clean. He didn’t linger, not wanting to use up the scant amount of hot water in the solar tanks. Getting out, he passed up the tempting option of pajamas for his regular clothing.  After all, he needed to be ready for anything.

Before lying down on the bed, he secured his usual assortment of knives and guns and finally, the corkscrew he habitually carried.  It had been a joke, one day that Tifa’s had broken and he’d been forced to open a bottle of wine with his gauntlet. But truly, the thing was sturdy enough to use as a small weapon. It couldn’t hurt to keep it around, and at worst, he could open a rogue bottle of Gongagan style red blend if he came across one.

Speaking of...a drink sounded heavenly. But he needed to stay on edge. Soon he would be back home. Or in Costa, or Rocket Town, and not out here being the only damned grownup. Fatigue and pain settled over him, and he tried to sleep. He had almost succeeded when the now-familiar sound of arguing came from the hallway.

Reeve threw the whole Sector Seven business in Reno’s face, who turned around and made some snide remark about someone running off with Reeve’s slide rule. It was the latest round of salvos in an ongoing war of two people who had always gotten along, and he was at a loss to explain it.

And so, he gathered up his files, along with a battery powered lamp, and returned to the Mansion for the night. Who knew that the place would actually be preferable to the town? Reno met him outside the door, cigarette lit. “Where you goin’, Tall Dark and Crazy?”

“Reno.” He’d had about enough of this. “You married a man who thought he was his dead boyfriend. I think my the subject of my mental health can be shelved for now. And why the hell are you and Reeve in some eternal pissing contest all of a sudden?”

“Who the fuck knows. Or cares. I’m flyin out tomorrow, yo. You two can sit up and play house in the City of the Damned all you want.”

“The hell you are,” Reeve shouted. He came storming out of his room and knocked Reno out with a clean right hook.Vincent stared, shocked. “He was going to strand us!”

“Fuck my head hurts. Okay, for one we are under an unofficial quarantine so we can’t leave anyway. Second, my best friend is a fucking pilot. Third, Reno is not the only one in ShinRa who can fly. What the hell is your problem?”

“Well when I told you to get along with the Turks I thought you might keep your pants on!”

Something snapped in Vincent then.“YOU’RE BANGING THE DIRECTOR AND IF I WAS ANY GOOD AT KEEPING MY PANTS ON I WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN SHOT THE FIRST TIME NOW I AM GOING TO THE GODS DAMNED MANSION BECAUSE THE GHOST OF HOJO IS MORE PLEASANT THAN EITHER OF YOU!”  He slammed the front door of the inn so hard, he was surprised the whole building didn’t fall down behind him. Would have served the two of them right, he thought as he made his way back up the hill to the place of his nightmares.

This made three times that someone had sent him to Nibelheim and he’d ended up in hell. He didn’t slow down until he sat behind the desk in the library, determined to stay there until someone came for them all.

It lasted four blissful hours.

“Hi. We’re sorry.”

“You aren’t sorry, you’re impaired. There is something wrong with you and I want you off this mission, back in Midgar and off this case, but that isn’t possible so in the words of my best friend who I may never see again this side of the Lifestream, shut the blueberry flavored fuck _up_. Reno, it’s bad enough Rude will be mourning the both of us if this isn’t figured out before we kill each other. I’d rather not think of the rest of the implications.”

“You don’t care about me?” Reeve pouted.

“Not at the moment. I have a headache.” He got up and began to explore his surroundings. It was strange to think it, but he’d never had the questionable luxury of doing so. Either at work or a medical experiment, his access to the grounds had never been so unimpeded.

The labs were not as he remembered them and yet, enough so that they were hauntingly familiar. The institutional rubber tile and the smell of dust and disinfectant had not changed. “Huh, wonder if that’s why Cloud cleans with vinegar,” Reno mused, his nose wrinkled in distaste. Gods, had they followed him? Apparently they had. There was no peace to be had even in this place.

“It’s why I do,” Vincent answered. “Hardwood floors and area rugs too. Natural light. No small animals,” he shoved a lab cage over to the side. “Some things we never get over.”

“I’ve been an asshole to him too. We had a huge fight this morning.”

“Oh, there’s a surprise,” muttered Reeve.

“For the love of Holy, don’t start.” Vincent didn’t feel like the two of them going at it again. “Call and apologize to Cloud later. I still say there is something wrong with both of you and you need to get out of here before you kill each other, or me.”

“Like what happened to the first team?” Their eyes met over the light of the battery lamp, and the chill in the room could not be explained by the temperature alone.

“It’s a contagion. It has to be a contagion.” Reeve worried at his lower lip. “Which means we’re on our own until something comes back with those samples. Okay, let’s hold onto our restraint as much as possible. Vince, you’re a little short tempered but nothing like us, what gives?”

“More resistant to infection? Who knows. I’ve been reading, but no clues.” They had made it to Hojo’s personal office. Vincent looked around the space coldly; he’d spent little time in here and it held few memories for him, good or ill. “What’s in there?”

Reeve and Reno shrugged, Reeve’s hand going to his pistol as Vincent opened the door. It was a closet, a fairly nondescript one at first investigation.  Until they began looking at the items it contained.

“That leather bracelet was Zack’s. I remember it from a picture that Cloud showed me.” Vincent picked it up and examined it more closely, noting that there was a jump ring that had once held a pendant of some sort. A matching one still contained a charm of a small silver wolf. A jewelry box nearby held chains, lockets, and a thin gold wedding band inscribed with barely visible Wutai characters.

“My mother’s. Dad gave it to me when I left for the Turks, said she’d always be looking out for me,” Vincent whispered.

“Oh my god, it’s a trophy room. The sick fuck collected shit from his subjects.” Reno drew back from touching anything.

Reeve watched with concern as his friend stared at the thin gold band on his finger. “Let’s get out of here. Let’s board this door shut and never come back.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice, yo. Vince, what you got there?”

Vincent had picked up from a pile in the corner, seemingly at random, a pair of rusted dog tags. “These are mine,” he said in perfect calmness, in a voice that was not his. “I wondered where I had left them.” He walked out of the room, through the labs and the room of coffins with no expression or hesitation whatsoever.

“Who the fuck is that?” Reno whispered, more terrified than he’d ever been in his life.

Forgetting for a moment that they’d sworn to kill each other only that morning, Reeve shook his head. “I have no idea but it is not Vincent. What the hells is happening to us?”

“I think it’s time to call in reinforcements, fuck quarantine. And man, that noise is drivin’ me nuts.”

“The Flyers? I’d almost forgotten about them.” Reno looked at his cohort with mixed annoyance and concern. “Sorry, tireder than I thought, I suppose. Let’s head back.”

They left the Mansion and looked around the grounds. Vincent was nowhere to be seen.

~~~~~

In spite of their fight the previous morning, Cloud had not been idle. If anything, Reno’s far out of character behavior had spurred him on even harder.

“There is nothing in these samples to show any infection, viral or bacterial. There is nothing in the soil, in the water. Nothing.”

Elena sipped her coffee. “Maybe it’s not a contagion. Or the water.”

“What else would do this?”

“What if it’s sound?”

“Not following.” He was tired, and stressed, and the combination had never worked well with him.

“Look. It’s a long shot. But those creatures, they had extra vocal cords. And the brain had been altered; at first I just attributed it to swelling due to some disease or injury. On a mammal, it’s the part of the brain that would process hearing, or close to it. And those notes Vincent sent, there’s some mention about sonic waves. What if Hojo was breeding something to carry sound? We know certain frequencies affect lab animals.”

As an explanation, it wasn’t any weirder than anything else they’d entertained. “But why isn’t it affecting us? We’ve been communicating with them every day, not that it’s been productive.” He still smarted from Reno’s insults.

“I...hells. I don’t know. Maybe because it’s digitized? Come on, like you haven’t heard Vince bitch about how nothing is like real vinyl and how media players just don’t replicate the full audio spectrum…”

“Yes, and speaking of contagions, Reeve’s on that kick too. So, we need an analog recording.”

“There’s an airfield outside the town. That’s how we got the first samples.”

Cloud smiled for the first time in a week. “Good thing we have a pilot.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think "Oh shit" covers this chapter pretty well.

##  [ And Buried Wells Do Poison Still, Ch 5 ](http://herradurra1.deviantart.com/art/And-Buried-Wells-Do-Poison-Still-Ch-5-526716709)

  * by [herradurra1](http://herradurra1.deviantart.com/), Moments ago
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Reeve considered the request odd, but no stranger than the rest of the trip. “You need what now?”

“We need you to find an old fashioned analog tape recorder. Set it outside and get us, Elena, how much you need?”

“About twenty minutes, it would be best if you had more than one location. Oh and Rude wants to talk to Vincent.”

“Um.” Reeve looked across the room to where his friend was sleeping, sedated since they had found him wandering around the water tower, holding his head in agony. “He’s asleep. He’s been affected by this, whatever it is, just not like us. Headaches, depression. We knocked him out.”

Cloud took the phone. “And Reno?”

“Yeah, babe, here. Sorry about yesterday, man…”

“It sounds like both of you are under the influence of something. Look, this is a long shot but we need those recordings. Cid is going to pick them up, same as with the other samples, and we’re...damn. We’re working on it.”

Reno held back a cutting reply that, on some level, he knew he didn’t really mean. “Yeah. Yeah. Just hurry, okay? I really don’t know how much longer we can hold out.”

~~~~~

Vincent was on his sixth cup of coffee when he heard the door to the library shut. Considering his history with the room, he really should have bothered to look up from his notes, but he didn’t.

“Baby, you look like hell.”

It took him a few moments to realize this was no dream. “And you shouldn’t be here. Damn it Rude, if this is a contagion--”

“Not. Here, Elena and Cloud figured it out. Put these in.” Rude handed him what looked like a standard set of wireless earbuds, the kind kids wore to listen to their music players. “Now,” Rude specified. He did. “The analog tape Cid brought over had supersonic frequencies. Notes aren’t complete, but looks like Hojo was experimenting to find a creature that could broadcast frequencies outside human hearing to increase aggression. Something to make enemy forces kill each other so ShinRa didn’t have to.”

“Let me guess what they produced. A dragon avian hybrid with extra vocal cords.”

Rude nodded. “But not enough power. That’s why nobody went batshit back in Midgar. Something’s amplifying it and controlling the Flyers, Elena and Cid rigged something up to track the signal, and we brought a fuck ton of explosives to take it out. Reno’s gonna fly it all around once he’s had some rest.”

“He hasn’t been himself.”

“Tell me about it. Cloud picked up on that, insisted on coming with. Reno’s...in need of a filter but he’s never been cruel. Why’re you okay?”

Vincent laughed without any real humor. _Okay_ was a matter of perspective. “I hear different frequencies than most humans, maybe. I’ve been having headaches though. And dreams. A Soldier, back in the...twenties, thirties maybe. I don’t recognize him but he seems to have attached himself to me.  Gods I’m tired.”

“What are you reading?”

“My medical files.” Rude raised his eyebrows. “Well, what was done to me may explain something about why this man finds me so compelling, why I’m his damned champion in all this. He’d have been older than I was, but were we here together? I don’t remember him. But then I don’t remember so much…”

Rude shut the file and put it away. “Let’s get some rest. Cid’s checking on Reeve and Reno went down for the count about an hour ago.”

They walked from the Mansion back to the inn to find that Cid had brought more than equipment; upon entering the inn, both men were nearly overcome with the smell of fresh cooked, home made spaghetti and meat sauce. Several meals were packed in dry ice, a welcome change from the ready meals that had kept them alive until now, but not terribly happy. Bottles of wine and beer and a real, honest to Goddess salad rounded out the meal.

They needed the boost in morale. Even Reeve and Reno made it down for a few bites and more apologies as Cid brought out the first plate and, after a rib-creaking bear hug, gave it to Vincent.

“Rest of us are hungry too, yo.”

“Rest of ya hadn’t had to worry about keeping everybody from killin’ each other.” Then to Vincent, “How are you feeling?”

“Tired, mostly. When Cloud and I are the sane ones, it’s rough going.”

“Hey!” But Cloud wasn’t offended, really, just relieved. Reno seemed to be back to his old irritating self, and they were on the way to figuring this thing out once and for all.

Later that night, Vincent lay down for the most restful sleep he’d had since his arrival, completely unashamed of how much comfort he drew from the warmth of Rude’s body next to him.

He woke in the barracks when someone slapped him, hard, on the arm. “Hey Tony, gonna be late for the train! Love us so much you wanna stay, eh?”

“Aw man, I’m gonna miss you guys. I’ll be back before you know it though. Just a few classes then back. Be your CO then, ya maggot!”

“You gonna say goodbye to the guys?”

“Nah. Just not really good at that stuff, yanno? You do it for me, man. I’ll be back.”

The look on the cadet’s face was something Vincent would not forget for a very long time. He woke clinging to Rude and crying. “I don’t know why it won’t stop. I don’t know who he is.”

“Shoulda told me the truth when I called.”

Vincent just shook his head. “You’d have come before you had answers.”

“Yeah.”

“Rude, I think I know what happened. To the other team, I mean. I think they tried to resume the experiment.”

“Why the fuck?”

“Why does anyone do anything? If they could make it work, it would look pretty good. But they couldn’t. It killed them. That’s why the money was pulled the first time. It was too dangerous even for Hojo to pursue, in the end.”

“Sorta makes you wish you’d been crazy and imagining the whole thing, doesn’t it?”

In spite of it being completely inappropriate, or perhaps because of it, the two men began to laugh. When one of them would finally catch his breath, the other would start again, and so it went on long almost till morning.

~~~~~

The next day Reno took the testing equipment that had been hastily assembled by Cid, Cloud, and Elena--with last minute additions from a freshly recovered and apologetic Reeve--into the air. He found the strongest supersonics coming from the old reactor.

He also had company. Even with the earplugs, a high pitched barely audible whine cut across his skull with agony as six, no, eight Flyers took aim at the copter. He barely made it back to the airstrip to land safely, grateful more than ever for Vincent’s sharp shooting skills that took out the few remaining Flyers that had followed him back.

“Thanks,” he stumbled out. “Haven’t cut it that close since I got one shot out from under my ass. Fuck my head hurts.”

“Get something to eat and go lie down,” Vincent told him. If he were going to be leader of this little expedition he might as well act like it.

Reno pulled off a sloppy salute. “Yes sir!” He looked back when he sensed no one was following him, only to see Vincent staring blankly into space.  “Hey, man, just kidding. You sounded all First Class and all.”

“Third.”

“What?”

“I’m Third Class. Where are my men?” he whispered and collapsed, limp, on the ground.

~~~~~

He woke to a horrible case of cotton mouth, and Cloud leaning over him, trying to examine the dog tags without removing them. Cid was there in a second with a glass of water. “Hey, you.”

“What are you looking at?”

“Trying to look at these. Rude went to take them off you and you nearly ripped off his arm.”

“Here,” he handed over the tags, though he felt strangely reluctant to part from them. “What do they say?”

Cid put on his reading glasses. “Gaglione, A. A. Blood type O+. Religion, Traditionalist. Family Contact: None. Serial Number 3776474. Which tells us not fuckin’ squat.” He handed them back over and Vincent put them back on with considerable relief. “But if they make you feel better, keep ‘em. You want somethin’ to eat?”

“No.” Last night’s spaghetti wasn’t even sitting well, truth be told. “I just want to sleep. Where is Rude, did I completely freak him out?”

“‘Fraid it’s gonna take more than that. He’s just doin’ a perimeter check, said to keep an eye on you till he got back.”

He dozed for a while, waking up again to see only Cloud, who did not seem to know what to do with himself. “How is Reno?”

“Apologetic, still.” Cloud stared out the dirty window. “I knew it wasn’t him. I still think I’ll milk it for a while though.”

He looked tired. Even with the earplugs, it was a struggle to do anything and they all moved slowly with bone deep lethargy.  Vincent realized Cloud had been looking at him for several awkward moments. “What?”

“I asked how you were. Reno said he thinks you’re possessed. More than usual, anyway.”

“That’s not how it happens.” He wanted to pop his neck but it was just too damn much trouble. “Humans have to be deeply modified to hold other life forms. Souls in the Lifestream, once they are no longer a part of the living, are alien energy to us. It has to be done by...an outside source. There are stories of yogi, long ago, meditating to reach an altered state and taking on souls but even then...it was temporary. You don’t just sit around and pick up some hitchhiking dead person. I wouldn’t have gotten it from the lab like a virus.”

Cloud laughed joylessly. “I hate this place.”

“Me too.”

“Why are we here?”

“Finding out what happened. Again. Deepground. Belzec. It never ends.”

“Except when we end it. Damn, I want to watch it all burn. Why can’t it all just fucking burn?”

Vincent didn’t have an answer. But he intended to find one, and soon, while he and Cloud held on to what sanity they had left.

~~~~~~

That night they all had dinner in a considerably better humor. One mystery was solved, and there was a general, unspoken consensus that the rest would be in good time. And time, finally, was something they had. Reeve made a call to Elena to tell her the earplugs were working, and promised to send her the data from the sensors the next day. After splitting a couple bottles of wine, everyone turned in.

“Ow! Hells! How many bombs did you bring?” Vincent rubbed his toe where he had stubbed it on the sizeable bomb chest that, for whatever reason, Rude had decided must reside in the room with them.

“Enough, man. I brought _enough_.”

Vincent wondered what it was like to not travel with a man who brought his own explosives everywhere he went, then decided he’d rather not know. He dressed for bed. The night passed in relative peace, and even Vincent did not dream.

When the morning sun cut through the window, Rude woke slowly and badly, aching in every joint and muscle. He felt better than he had but the strain of the previous few weeks was telling on him. Worry, bad sleep, constant tension, the feeling of being on edge every moment of the day and night, it had all taken its toll. Vincent’s nightmares had not helped matters much.

And so, it took him longer than usual to realize something was wrong. Something past the empty bed. No, this was the complete and utter silence of a room unoccupied. At six in the morning. Vincent never even rolled over before nine without bribery, blackmail, coffee and three alarm clocks. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, willing himself into wakefulness. What he saw had him reaching for his phone in full panic.

The chest holding most of the bombs and grenades had been neatly picked and at least two, from Rude’s cursory glance, were missing. In their place were the earplugs he had placed in Vincent’s ears the night before as the gunman slept. Before he had a chance to dial a number, however, the phone trilled.

“We got a problem,” he said by way of hello.

“No shit, yo.” He looked at the picture in the attachment Reno had sent. It was the Nibelheim water tower. The good news was, Reno had found Vincent.

The bad news was that Death Gigas was officially out of retirement and held two large explosives in his powerful right hand.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.

 

 

 

 

 

 

##  [ And Buried Wells Do Poison Still, End ](http://herradurra1.deviantart.com/art/And-Buried-Wells-Do-Poison-Still-End-526737819)

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Cid fought the urge to laugh. It was inappropriate as all hell but all he could think of was the old joke his aunt told over and over. Where does a five hundred pound gorilla sleep?

Anywhere it fucking wants.

Holed up in the remains of an old storefront across from the water tower, listening to the Turks--and Reeve, by extension--blather about what they were going to do about Gigas, that joke was stuck on endless repeat in his head the same way it had been in his aunt’s. Maybe he was finally losing his marbles. If not, he damn sure had a hole in the bag. Here they were, six unenhanced humans and one bigass, armed demon holding a couple of bombs that could turn the entire town into a crater. Cloud simply laid his head on a counter in exhausted defeat.

“We could try a tranq dart,” Reeve was saying.

“And hope like fuck he hasn’t armed those things before he drops them,” Rude countered.

Cloud raised his head. “He knows how to arm a bomb?”

“Been together going on five years, you don’t think he picked that up?”

“‘Sides, you said this thing, these things, are fucking with sound?” Cid began finally to put some pieces together in his caffeine deprived brain.

“Yes, they were modified somehow. And the transmitter is in the old reactor. The toxicity alone would kill any of us, and the hypersonics are stronger there. We can’t get to it, even from the air. We tried. Reno nearly wrecked the copter from the pain.”

“Gigas is deaf. Well I ain’t knowing about deaf exactly, but I do know he never heard anything regular, not loud noises, nothing, and the rest of them did. And Vincent is immune to mako even without the demon. Not that we got much of a choice in the matter, but why don’t we just let the damn thing do what it wants and home we don’t get blown into the Lifestream by mornin’?”

As plans went, it wasn’t the worst they had heard. But it was damned close.

~~~~~

Darkness fell slowly across the valley. They relocated the helicopter and plane to a safe distance outside the town and sat down to wait in the dying light.

“Will he know where to find us?” Reno asked.

“He’ll know.” Rude drew idle designs with a stick in the packed ground at his side. “Old Turk gathering point hasn’t changed. It’s where his teams would have met after a mission.”

“Oh.”

The sun set, and still there was nothing. The cries of the Flyers could still be heard but with the dangerous frequencies blocked, they were no more than a mere annoyance. Finally, Reeve pointed to a spot over the reactor. “Tell me that one isn’t acting strangely.”

It was flying in a circle, like an insect with one wing torn off. Finally it crashed into the ground below with a sickening wet crunch that could be heard from their vantage point outside the town. Moments later the sky lit with orange fire.

Before they could wonder if their friend had made it out safely, a second explosion, completely unexpected, rocked them from the direction of the Mansion. Heat and percussive force hit them so hard they nearly missed the limp form of Death Gigas being thrown back into the hard ground. Fire winds tore at them all as they ran toward the place where he had fallen. “No human could have survived that!” Reno shouted over the  din.

“Good thing he ain’t human right now, ain’t it?” Cid yelled back, as if annoyed at the whole damn business.

It took them longer than expected, explosions being much neater in the movies. Smoke burned their throats and the need to dodge flying debris slowed their progress. By the time they reached their destination, Death Gigas was no more. In his place was a very tired, bruised, and singed Vincent. “Go!” Rude ordered as he gathered the thin body up in his arms to follow. Once more a safe distance away, they turned to look back. The Flyers, lacking any central control, spun madly into the fire and died. Both the reactor and the Mansion were fully engulfed, the latter being either Vincent’s or Gigas’ idea of a going away present to the town.

Fitting, really.

Cloud knelt in the dirt, tears and sweat tracking through the caked dust and soot on his face as Reno half held him upright. “What is it baby? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s burning. It’s finally _burning_.”

Rude leaned over and nudged Vincent.  “Wake up. You’re gonna want to see this.” Vincent opened his eyes. He didn’t speak at first, he just watched the flames.

“Shit”

“What’s wrong, babe?”

By way of answer, Vincent dug in one of his pockets and pulled out the broken remains of his treasured corkscrew, a casualty of Gigas’ fall, then fell back asleep in his lover’s arms.

“Let’s get the fuck outta town, yo.”

“We should rest. Everyone is exhausted,” countered Reeve.

“I’m good for getting us back to Rocket Town,” Cid argued. “I don’t wanna spend another minute in this hell hole, and I’m betting neither does Vince.”

“What about the things at the inn?” asked Reeve. “Our equipment, luggage…”

“Leave it,” Cloud wiped his face, coming back to the present. “Let’s just go.”

“I second that. Since all Cid brought was the two seater, Reeve can go with him. I’ll fly everyone else back in the copter.”

“See you folks at the house,” Cid nodded. “Pretty sight, that fire.”

“Yeah,” Cloud whispered, then allowed Reno to pull him up off the ground.  Slowly the tired survivors of the Last Nibelheim Mission gathered their wits about them, and left the damned valley for good.

~~~~~

They all spent the night at Cid’s house. It was a bit cramped for the lot of them but no one felt like going any farther. Vincent slept for a solid twelve hours and when he woke, Cid was sitting on the side of the bed. “He’s out getting the copter ready for the trip back. Made it here by a damn hair. Damn fool thing you did, by the way.”

“Worked.” Vincent rolled over with some effort. “I feel like I have the worst hangover.”

“Yah. Supposed to get you rehydrated by figured you’d want coffee first.” Cid tried, and mostly succeeded, to not wince and his friend’s appearance. He was far paler than even his normal tone and bruised within an inch of his life. He wondered when Vincent had last eaten. “You up for breakfast?”

“Yes. Two of everything. And stop fretting, you know how fast I lose weight and how fast I’ll put it back on. And Cid?”

“Huh?”

“Can I get credit for being right about damn near everything on this mission?”

“Yah, yah, Vincent was right. Get it tattooed on my ass. Breakfast is up in five, don’t be late.” Cid patted his friend on the shoulder, rose and went into the kitchen to cook. He watched Vincent eat three plates of eggs and bacon, a sure sign that the previous week topped off by shapeshifting had used up more than its share of calories. He only slowed down when Rude and Reno entered the room.

“Headed back. You coming later?”

“Yeah. Cid’s going to take us whenever Cloud wakes up. I’m probably going down for a nap till then.”

Rude nodded, then spoke to Reno, “Be out in a sec.” When his partner had left to go check on Cloud, he pulled out a small paper bag from his pocket. “Not as nice as the one you broke, but it was all Rocket Town Package had.”

Vincent unwrapped it to find a cheap plastic corkscrew, the kind convenience stores sold for a gil. “You could have waited,” he whispered with a soft smile.

“Nah. Not today. Happy anniversary, babe.”

How in the hells had it gotten to be February? It was official, they were the most bizarre couple on the Planet. “Time got away from me. I’m sorry.”

“Make it up to me in Costa.”

“If your mother sees me like this, it will be a week of lectures on our dangerous jobs.”

“...De Calla it is, then.” Rude kissed him goodbye, gently to avoid his injuries, and left to join Reno at the airstrip.

Later, when everyone was well rested and fed again, Cid flew them back to Edge. For the hell of it, he circled around Nibelheim so his they could have one final view of the burned out shell of their nightmares, finally put to rest. Cloud still had a hard time looking at it, but Vincent smiled.

Someone, most certainly Death Gigas, had blasted two words into the mountainside as a warning to all who would come after.

_ALL GONE_.

~~~~~  
_Epilogue:_

It took some time before Vincent realized that his quietest demon had actually left his body. He would never know whether Death Gigas had been killed in the explosion, as Chaos had years ago, or had simply exited voluntarily after his job was done. That was another mystery left to the ages.

All that remained were the dreams of missions he had never led, battles he never fought, and the equipment too antiquated for even his thirty year absence. While it was less consuming than in Nibelheim, when the thinning barriers he kept so carefully in place were being eroded day by day with the Flyer’s poison, it was still worrisome. The need to set things to rest nagged at him until  one day, before his medical leave ended, he made a trip down to the ShinRa archives. He took with him only a rusted pair of dog tags and a cheap plastic corkscrew.

He didn’t understand Reno’s fascination with old records and certainly lacked the younger man’s talent for it, but hesitated to bring along company for this particular excursion. After several fruitless hours, he found what he sought.

It was a black and white enlistment photo of a man, young but aged beyond his years, hair trimmed short to the skull the way recruits were back then. His square jaw and frown belied the sparkling eyes and dry humor behind them, and a hearing aid could barely be seen in one ear. His vital statistics listed him at six feet five inches and two hundred ninety five pounds; his arms were the size of Vincent’s neck. Clipped to it was a yellowed obituary.

_**Gaglione, Anthony Andrew** _

_Tony “Gigas” Gaglione was reported missing in action after a mission near the town of Nibelheim on October 4, 1924. Nicknamed for his large size and growling voice, he was none the less beloved by his troops for a quick wit and always ready with a kind word._

_In spite of a moderate hearing loss, Soldier Third Class Gaglione served three years as a Noncommissioned Officer with great distinction, earning him the rare opportunity to attend Academy as an enlisted man. He excelled in all of his studies and graduated at the top of his class in 1923. The mission to Nibelheim was the first that he led and, though he saved many Soldiers he sadly did not, himself, return._

_He leaves no surviving relatives but his friends and cohorts mourn his absence, and look forward to the day when their Souls shall be reunited in the Lifestream once more._

For almost fifty years the body of Anthony Gaglioni had lain in stasis in ShinRa Mansion, until the time Hojo discovered it. But the day he and his friends had been awaiting had finally come. Vincent smiled as he scribbled a notation in the margins and, dropping the dog tags into the folder, closed the lid on whatever horrors of science had transformed the young muscular Soldier into the demon he had hosted.

“You had your final battle. Rest in peace, old friend,” he whispered into the darkness and, rising to his feet, closed the door on the past. It was nearly five and Rude would be wondering where he was.


End file.
